Snippets of a Plot Bunny
by LoriStori
Summary: Beginnings, challenges, poetry snippets, plot hole discussions and ideas that kept me up at night - ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, your newest toy box. Have at ye, good sirs and madams. Rated simply for caution - I have one scary mind and some outrage is to be expected. You have been warned.
1. Judgment of Life from Death

_**Reflecting On The Web You Wove**_

Down, down, down you go,

Unable to stop yourself, nor slow

Until you break

Upon the gate

Of hell's burning door.

Down, down, down you fall -

The minutes tick by at a crawl.

What was gained

with loyalty chained

to a bitter, scornful doll?

Your puppets hate you most of all.

Yes, down, down, down your sent

A life you can never repent.

Gleaming jade,

forever shamed -

the last of your dignity spent.

Now down, down, down you go

A frantic, vengeful crow

With feathers clipped

far past the tip

A bitter, hateful soul.

There's blood on your hands not your own.

As down, down, down you fall,

A lone man stands against it all.

Eyes defeated,

Soul depleted,

The child killed stands tall.

Hope is meant for those who've ever lived a life at all.

Now down and down and down you've come,

your judgment surely done.

The flames consume

it is your doom

Your mistakes can't be undone.

You fell and forsook the Sun.


	2. Remembrance

_**Remembrance**_

I fell upon the ground so cold,

My life force draining out, untold

were the sorrows that had stained my damaged, sorry soul.

Repent, repent, repent your life -

how can one fall from such a height.

I never knew what it meant to live until I died.

Emerald green above me now,

Eyes I've longed for, crying out -

staring back from a face that I hated, even now.

Oh lily, dear white flower,

It seems that it's my hour.

And now I show

what I hope you know -

I never meant to let you go.

My dear, sweet Lily Evans.


	3. Percy Jackson: An Unfinished Perversion

_This is a story that I was working on when I had no computer for roughly six months. It is, unfortunately, not completely finished, so I'll probably be working on it while writing _Power of Insanity _and _Ignorant Bliss. _Stop complaining. I get bored very easily when forced to do only one thing._

_Regardless, this is a very crack-like fic, so have fun killing your brain cells while reading this – I do know that my IQ has dropped 25 points since starting this, and after taking a break, has since refused to recuperate back to normal levels._

_Enough chitter._

_I'll stop my chatter._

_Enjoy the story._

**Percy Jackson: **

**Ramblings of a Foul-Mouthed Cynical Brat**

**Chapter One:**

**Off is the General Direction in Which I Wish You Would Fuck**

In the beginning, there was darkness.

Not really, but hardly anyone remembers Greek Mythology these days, and even fewer believe in it. Sad really.

Chaos. That was the beginning.

The Creator, the Bringer of Light, of the Universe, Primordial God of Everything, Really.

Whose gender just so happens to be of the female variety.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. And none of this has anything to do with this story – yet, anyway.

My name is Perseus Jackson, son of a beautiful mortal by the name of Sally Jackson and some Greek god that I don't really give a damn about and who my mom won't tell me the identity of.

With my luck, I'm the son of Poseidon, a barnacle-encrusted god of the sea who is second in Zeus' hatred only because the Kind of Gods has another, even _more _unfortunate brother.

If I'm the son of Hades, though, I'm gonna start cursing the Fates and asking why they hate me. Whatever it was, I'm taking it to court, and pleading "Not Guilty", regardless of charges.

Once again, however, we've gotten off topic.

Let me tell you my story.

Now, most stories begin at the beginning, continue through the middle, and finish at the end.

Screw that.

We're starting with the middle, finishing with the end, and skipping the beginning because you've probably already heard it.

If not, here's the shortened version.

I'm discovered by a satyr, who takes me to this fucked-up camp for "people like you, Perce" (my most hated nickname – that _bastard!_), during the process of which my mom crashes the car, I find out I've got a Minotaur chasing me, my mom _literally _dissolves into golden dust (no joke) and I'm introduced to those supposed "people like myself" who all, for some unknown reason, seem to think I'm a son of Zeus himself.

Bullshit. Even _my _luck isn't _that _bad.

But people keep telling me that the evidence is all there. Black hair, sky-blue eyes, capable of summoning storms, etcetera.

Sorry guys, hate to break it to ya, but Poseidon can do that last one too.

But no. Remember when I said my luck wasn't bad enough to be a son of Zeus?

Yeah, apparently I was wrong.

"Godsdammit! Chiron, please tell me that isn't Zeus' symbol floating above my head."

"Yes, it is, Percy." For some reason, Chiron sounded amused.

"Great." I rolled my eyes and decided not to kill myself yet in case this went somewhere even remotely good.

"All Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of Zeus, King of the Gods." Screw you Chiron, I thought, eyeing everyone bowing to me. Screw you _so _hard, and in all the wrong places.

So yeah. My sperm-donor's Zeus.

_Dear Fates:_

_Who put a twist in your toga, and told you to blame me, huh?_

_Whoever it was, he lied, I swear. I didn't do jackshit._

_Sincerely,_

_And with Best Wishes,_

_Perseus Sinclaire Jackson_

_(Fate's Chew Toy until I get my day in court.)_

After that little claiming episode, things started going downhill.

Nobody would talk to me, people kept avoiding eye contact, by the end of the week, I had satyrs scrurrying out of my path and was seriously considering applying for a new job with Hades in exchange for some decent conversation.

Oh, did I mention that I'd been accused of stealing Poseidon's Trident?

Yeah, that sucked pretty bad, too.

So, I'm hauled up to the Big House (I know, it sounds sexual, but I promise you, it's just an old white house that's unusually large), and Chiron essentially all but orders me to go on some trumped-up journey to save some trumped-up weapon for a trumped-up god so that my sperm-donor can save his trumped-up ass.

Haha! Yeah – NO!

No way in _hell _am I doing that! I'm a lot of things, but suicidal isn't one of them.

Except, suddenly, that's exactly what I found myself doing – going on a trumped-up journey to save some trumped-up weapon for a trumped-up god so that my sperm-donor can save his trumped-up ass. Fuck my life.

Did I mention that his trumped-up journey is supposed to wind up in Hades' realm? Or that the weapon is Poseidon's trident, and my sperm-donor is supposed to have stolen it? Yeah, Zeus is full of shit – he can't even save himself from his supposedly _inferior _brother.

Fuck you, _Dad._ Fuck you and the eagle you soared in on.

Oh, but wait – none of that is even the best part. You know what the best part is?

Cross-country – I have to make my way _by land_ to Los Angeles (where the Gates of Hell, ironically enough, apparently are) all the way from Long Island, New York.

Yeah, fuck that. I'm jacking somebody's Pegasus and using the easy way.

But no, apparently that won't work either, because I have to have "quest members". Some princess-chick, know-it-all, daughter of Athena, and a satyr with a suicide mission who fucked up in the past and got my half-sister, Thalia Grace, turned into a pine tree (a story I heard from one of the Hermes kids, Luke Castellan).

I've said it before, I'll say it again – Fuck. My. Life.

So there we are, riding cross-country, with a car I "borrowed" (with every intention, but no real expectation of returning), and a complaining, stuck up Princess in the rear seat, with a satyr riding shot-gun and sneaking worried glances between me and Ms. Wise-Ass like he thinks WWIII is gonna break out.

Hey, who knows? If this quest doesn't work out, it just might.

Ten hours later on the interstate, and voila! Los Angeles, City of Angels, California, here we are!

"Woe to all depraved souls," I said under my breath, eyeing some graffiti written in Greek (Gee, what a coincidence!) sprayed on the side of the "Welcome to Los Angeles! Have a nice time!" road sign.

No. No, we will not have a "nice time". Fuck you, sign. We're busy saving the world. You ever heard of someone having a nice time when they're saving the world?

Yeah. I didn't think so.

But, back to the story, of course, the moment I say those words ("Woe to all depraved souls", remember?), some spooky-looking (not really) hole in the ground appears, looking like it really might be an entrance to Underworld.

And here I was, hoping Chiron was wrong, and the City of Angels _didn't _have demons living right under it, and I'd get to say, "Oh, well, we went to the place you said, but nothing was there, so we threw our hands up in the air, 'cause we really didn't care, and said, "Aye-oh! Let the trident go!" and so on. Pass the salt, please."

Well damn. There goes that pipe dream. On to the next one, I suppose.

Maybe Charon will be a nice fellow who wears Italian suits and can be bribed with golden drachmas into giving us a ride.

...Well, what do ya know? Charon actually is a fairly nice old fellow who wears Italian suits and can be bribed into giving us a ride with golden drachmas.

You know life's fucked-up when pipe dreams come true and little orphan's dreams of food don't.

So there we are, my mates and I (for, after a ten-hour drive, sitting in suck a cramped space, how could you not become friends, or, at the very least, friendly?), in front of Hade's palace. It was big, black, and looking _so_ friendly – not. It was looking distinctly unfriendly, actually.

So, of course, I throw the doors open, waltz right in, and ask Hades, in just as many words, "What's the deal man, we heard you stole Poseidon's treasured trident-shaped sex toy. That's messed up, you really don't wanna be sharing those kinds of things. Why'd ya do it, Uncle H?"

"I didn't. Who the Hades' told you that?"

I shrugged, figuring that Hades' was somewhat forced into the usage of his own name when trying to curse properly in Greek. "Oh, you know how it goes, everyone blames you because they think that with people dying, you'll grow stronger, blah blah blah, kingdom will get bigger, etc. etc. – you know," I said, smirking. "The usual.

"Of course it is, Perseus. So, who do you think is responsible?" Hades, frankly, looked far more interested in his dinner than anything else. (Sorry, did I mention he was busy having Sheperd's Pie with his wife, who was being suspiciously quiet and probably planning another escape? Yeah, well, now you know.)

"Why are you asking me?" I asked, absently reaching over and snapping my qestmate's mouths shut to prevent flied from entering.

"Because your observant and have a tendency to notice when someone's done something wrong while being the biggest hypocrite I've ever seen and ignoring your own misdeeds. So, who stole Poseidon's Trident, and most likely my Helm?" Hades finished this statement by putting a delicious-looking piece of steak in his mouth.


	4. Pandora Hearts: If Alice Forgot More

Drowning Sanity: The Waves of Madness

She was crazy, you see. Completely mad. She was out of her mind and perfectly comfortable with that. She walked between worlds of sanity, a broken link in a uniform chain. And it drew people to her, like moths to flame.

"Sane?" she asked, in genuine confusion. "Why on earth would anyone wish to be such a thing? After all, sanity is just a one trick pony, and common sense isn't much of a trick to begin with. But ah, to be mad!" Her eyes gained a lightness and sense of nostalgia to them. "Would that we all were out of our minds - such interesting things we might see and agree upon!"

**Falling**

Chapter One: Who am I?

"Hey - why are you crying?"

The girl looked up into a pair of emerald greens eyes, and tried to contain her sobs enough to talk.

"I don't... remember anything. I don't even know where I am..."

"Do you know your name, at least?" She focused a bit more, and realized that the eyes belonged to a boy with blonde hair, and his voice sounded concerned.

"...Alyss."

"Alyss," the boy repeated, seeming to test the name. His eyes grew soft and almost dream-like. "That's really pretty."

The girl blushed, but didn't know what to say to that, and so she kept silent, looking up at the boy from underneath her white bangs.

"You said you don't know where you are?"

Alyss shook her head, still somewhat hesitant around this blond-haired, emerald-eyed male before her. He felt familiar, and comforting, but she didn't know him - and not knowing scared her. She knew little enough as it is.

"Well, I have to admit that it doesn't look like I thought it would, however, apparently, both you and I... are in Abyss."

The girl tilted her head to the side in confusion. "...Abyss?"

"You don't know what that is?" The boy asked quietly. No scorn, no teasing, just a gentle query to confirm if she needed him to explain. Alyss relaxed a little more in his presence.

"No. I don't know what it is. Will you... tell me?"

The boy smiled, and Alyss blinked as her breath caught a bit. Whoever this boy was, he shone very brightly - she hoped he smiled often.

"Well, to be honest, I don't know much, but... well, according to legend, the Abyss was a world where only the worst criminals were banished to. It's supposed to be filled with suffering and horror, but, well... as you can see, that legend doesn't really mesh very well with everything around us, does it?" The boy smiled again, and Alyss listened to his voice, somewhat enraptured. "However," and suddenly, the boy frowned, and Alyss mirrored the expression, but for a different reason. This boy should never be anything but happy. "what I do know is that there are monsters out there that apparently like to eat people like you and me."

"Eat... us?" And suddenly, Alyss had a new fear - she didn't want to be eaten.

"...Yeah. Sounds nasty, doesn't it?" The boy's smile was grim, but at least he wasn't frowning anymore. Alyss suddenly realized that she didn't know the boy's name.

She opened her mouth to ask, but was interrupted by a screeching sound, and she clapped her hands over her ears. She didn't like it, whatever that noise was - it sounded horrific.

"Alyss! Grab my hand, quickly!" She obeyed without question, screwing her eyes up in pain as the noise grew louder and louder. It _hurt_ and she hated it, she was so scared -

She felt warmth encircle her, and she grasped at it tightly, burying her head into it in hopes of blocking the sound out.

It began to fade, and she relaxed a bit, but the air felt different, and the warmth she was holding on to was getting heavy, and -

Everything went black.

"...is Alyss? What have you done to her?"

Alyss woke up slowly to the sound of a familiar voice, but it took a few moments to place it. That's right - it was that boy. That emerald-eyed boy. He sounded angry, but she couldn't see him.

She sat up and looked around, but began to become scared - where was she? She had never been anywhere that looked like this! Where was he? The boy, she needed him - he could help her. He could explain what was going on.

She got up unsteadily, and headed towards the sound of that familiar voice - it was coming from the other side of what looked like a very ornate door. She reached for the handle and peaked out - there!

She ran and wrapped her arms around him, her entire body shaking. She heard him grunt in surprise, saying her name worriedly, but she shook her head - she was too overwhelmed to speak. She just wanted him to hold her. He was so very warm...

As if he had heard her thoughts, she felt that warmth from before wrap around her again, and slowly, she felt her trembling settle down.

"Take some deep breaths, Alyss - it's okay. We're both alright." The combination of his soothing voice and the warmth of his arms was almost therapeutic. She had never felt this safe before, and she hoped it never ended.

"Alyss?" He called her name, and she looked up - into those green, green eyes - as he tilted his head questioningly. He smiled at her, and she automatically smiled back, feeling his body relaxing a bit. "Would you like to sit down?"

She looked over to the chairs that he gestured towards. She did want to sit down, she was getting tired, but... if they sat in those chairs, she'd have to let go of... she suddenly remembered that she didn't know this boy's name. She looked up at him, questioningly.

"Alyss?" He asked, confusion lacing his voice. So even he did not know everything. For some reason, this surprised her. She couldn't grasp why, however.

"Your... name..." she said, suddenly feeling so very embarrassed that she was hugging someone whose name she didn't even know. But he felt so very familiar, like a long lost friend who she met again after years of not seeing each other.

"Ah! I'm sorry, I never did tell you, did I?" She saw his eyes sparkle as he grinned, and she felt a warmth come to her cheeks. He really did shine so very brightly. "My name is Oz. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Alyss."

Oz. The name sent a shiver of happiness down her spine, and she clutched the boy tighter, feeling a little possessive.

"You can sit with me, if you want, Alyss - but we need to talk to these three so we can find out where we are and why we're not in Abyss anymore. Okay?" She looked up at him, then over towards where his eyes flickered, noticing for the first time that there were other people in the room. Two men and a woman. She looked back at Oz and saw his eyes were serious, so she nodded and stepped back, almost immediately missing the warmth.

He reached out and grasped her hand, before leading her towards one of the chairs, sitting down and opening his arms out to her. She smiled with delight, and nearly jumped back into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck to balance herself on his lap.

"Well, that certainly looks cozy - and look, Oz! You're precious Alyss must have heard you yelling and come to see what the matter was!" said one of the men. He had white hair that fell over one eye, but his other one was a bright, vivid red that reminded Alyss of blood. He had a strange doll on his shoulder and a smile that was large and creepy - whoever this man was, she didn't want him anywhere near her. She buried her face into Oz's shoulder and tried not to tremble.

"Break..." she heard Oz growl. She felt a tingle pass down her spine at the sound of his voice. "You're scaring Alyss. If you refuse to play nice, I'm going to hurt you."

"Ah, am I scaring her? Pity."

"Break, play nice. After all, we still haven't talked to these two yet." Alyss turned her head a bit so she could see the woman who was speaking - at least this person wasn't terrifying. She actually seemed quite nice, although oddly young when standing next to the other two in the room. Alyss turned her attention to the last man who was present.

Black hair curled around his head from beneath a black hat, and gold eyes stared out from his face in what seemed to be a perpetual glare. His coat was black with white lining, and he had two guns in holsters within easy reach. There was something about him, though, despite his rough appearance... something soft and slightly desperate...

She raised a hand and pointed at him. "Who... Who are you?"

The man started and looked at the white haired man - Break? What an oddly dissonant name - seemingly for assistance, before looking back at her. "Raven. Raven Nightray."

She tilted her head, white hair falling over her left eye as her eyebrows scrunched together. She shook her head. That name didn't sound right. Something about it clashed with the man before her in a decidedly unharmonious way. "No... no, that's not right..." she murmured.

"Alyss?" She heard Oz ask quietly. She looked back into his green eyes, her own unfocused.

"That name doesn't fit him. It clashes with... with..." she shook her head in frustration, unable to find the words to explain what she meant. "It is not his name," she finally said. "No person's real name clashes like that." She looked at Oz, hoping he knew what she meant. She caught a flicker in his emerald gaze, and smiled, knowing he understood.

"No... I don't imagine that it does..." the blonde whispered softly, staring hard at the raven-haired man for a moment. "But, if that's the name that he wishes to use, then who am I to argue?" Here, he smiled, and his eyes gained a hard glint to them. "After all... I'll find out soon enough."

Oz was in a state of confusion. The girl he had met in the Abyss was - how did one put it lightly? Well, she was surprisingly... clingy. She had barely met him, hadn't even know his name, and she had already attached herself to his hip. After she had run out of the room she had obviously been staying inside, she had practically tackled him, and didn't seem to want to let go anytime soon. Even if they were sitting down, she was reluctant to sit in her own chair.

Honestly, Oz wasn't sure what was more confusing about the situation - the fact that she was possessive of someone she barely knew, or the fact that he didn't mind it at all.

And really, there were several moments when he questioned whether they really didn't know each other - there was a sense of familiarity that he got from her, especially when she hugged him. It was like... like seeing a long lost friend that you hadn't heard from in years and being able to act like no time had passed between you at all.

Truly, it was astounding - he never grew this close to anyone so quickly... well, except for Gilbert, but then again, his manservant had been such a pathetic thing when they had first met, Oz couldn't really help himself at the time. Plus, the boy what just so much fun to torture...


	5. A Generic Harry Potter Beginning

It was raining glass. Glass and bits of stone.

Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, Vanquisher of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and immortal twenty-one year old, watched with a vague sense of detachment as the old castle he had lived in for so man years fell before him as though it had aged centuries in the span of a few seconds.

This was further proof of Voldemort's last curse - destruction of magic.

As if the bodies hadn't been proof enough.

They lay there, glassy-eyed, looking like remnants of a mass Dementor's Kiss.

Harry snorted. Somehow, he doubted it had been as painless as that. The fact that the bodies had still twitched for hours after the act, despite their owners being long gone clued him in on the kind of pain levels involved in having your magical core sucked out of you.

Harry looked up at the sky, allowing a sense of melancholy to settle on him. HE'd long since gotten past the tears - having traveled the world only to see that he truly was the last magical being on the planet allowed him to - not really come to grips with the situation, but rather accept it, as he knew there was nothing he could do to fix it.

Te fact that he had been broken so many times before might also have had something to do with it the more ironic part of him supposed.

Albus Dumbledore. Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and manipulator extraordinaire. From the time Harry had first met him, the man had set himself up as a kind of grandfather figure and, later, mentor - despite stealing valuable heirlooms from him and keeping him ignorant of those very same heirlooms so that he wouldn't know to argue. Not to mention all those other things the old man had kept him ignorant of.


	6. Horcruxes, Souls and Voldemort: An Essay

Plot Holes and Contemplations:  
Horcruxes, Souls, and Why Voldemort is an Evil Bastard

If you're anything like me, you're immediate reaction when J.K. Rowling introduced the subject of Horcruxes was something like this:

Blink. "Wait…what?" Blink.

Cue rant.

I mean, what? We can split our souls now, and it will let us live forever? I don't understand what splitting one's soul even means! What the hell's a soul and why is splitting it such a horrifying crime, above everything else Voldemort ever did? He was a Dark Lord! Surely he's done worse things?

I believe my biggest problem with the concept of Horcruxes is that, while I can give a very vague description of what a soul is and why it's important that we have one, to be honest, at the time I first read the series, I didn't really understand. A soul, while supposedly important, was something more of an ambiguous idea, and therefore, horcruxes ended up being an equally ambiguous concept.

However, then, one day, I read this quote:

"You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body."

It took a while for the meaning of that phrase to really sink in and properly percolate in the back of my brain, but all of a sudden, several days later, I nearly gave my cat a heart attack when I jumped up out of nowhere, yelling, "I got it!", when I'd been reading quietly for the past three hours.

And truly, I did get it. I understood the true horror that Voldemort had done, the mutilation he had committed on himself of his own volition.

He had willingly fractured his very being.

It would be as if I took fundamental aspects of you, your morals, your beliefs, your personality, carved them out of you, put them in a box, and then refused to give them back, so that all you had left was a fraction of what had been you originally.

Of course, while I understood now why a Horcrux was an unbelievably despicable thing to make - for if Voldemort could do that to himself, would there even be a limit to what he'd willingly do to others - I still didn't understand why a horcrux would allow someone to be immortal. How would that even begin to work?

So I began to think. What was a horcrux (besides a perversion of nature and personal identity)? Based on Rowling's descriptions, a horcrux is an object that contains a part of someone's soul, storing it inside itself - a soul-jar, if you will.

Well, what does a jar do? It stores things to preserve them from contamination. What could contaminate a soul?

Death.

All of a sudden, the puzzle pieces began to fall into place for me. The disgust that the characters had for the idea of a horcrux, how a horcrux works, why Voldemort was able to live on despite his body turning to ash.

Horcruxes. Soul-jars. The ability to take and preserve yourself against the pull and contamination of death, by fracturing your soul and storing it in an object.

But what would the side-effects of cheating death by fracturing yourself end up being? For surely, there had to be some, as everything comes with a price, and the bigger the prize, the higher said price would have to be.

An analyses for another time, perhaps.


	7. Lily's Sacrifice: An Essay on Mechanics

Plot Holes and Contemplations:  
How Lily Potter's Sacrifice Might Have Worked

It's All Hallow's Eve of 1981. The Dark Lord Voldemort has gained information on the locations of a family that has defied him numerous times already. What's more, one of his servants, Severus Snape, has informed him that there is a prophecy surrounding the child of this family - the brat is destined to defeat him. Him! The greatest Dark Lord of the Age!

The brat had to die. No other option was acceptable.

He has acquired access to the family's hiding place via their secret keeper turned traitor, Peter Pettigrew, and it took all of five minutes to kill the hazel-eyed male, James Potter, before confronting the man's wife, Lily, in the nursery. At the request of his now favored spy, Severus, he gives the woman the chance to live, if she would step aside and let him kill her son. However, the stupid bint refused to do so, continuously begging for him to spare her son and take her life in the boy's place - very well. Let Severus never say that he didn't respect the silly's girl's wishes - well, half of them, anyway. He kills her, before turning the same curse upon her one-year-old son.

However, the curse, instead of finishing the toddler off like it had all others before it, instead rebounds upon its caster, and Voldemort's spirit is forced to flee as his body is destroyed.

All because of the great love Lily Potter had for her son.

Wait…what?

It has been said by many critics of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books that of the many plotholes and hand-waves that exist throughout the series, the concept of Lily's Sacrifice is both the most bewildering and quite possibly the most offensive, if only due to how integral to the entire story-line the sacrifice is. For, without it, there would be no Boy-Who-Lived. There would simply be another three entries into the long list of casualties resultant of Voldemort's First Rise to power.

There have been many who have tried to come up with ways that Lily could have saved Harry - rituals, blood magic, ancient spells - and many more who sit back and merely complain about how it doesn't make a single _iota_ of sense.

I, however, will do neither of these things, and instead wish to put forth something of a rather radical proposition.

I believe that the concept of Lily's Sacrifice, as explained in-universe, does, in fact, _make sense_.

Before you all shoot me and cry traitor, I would like to explain my reasoning, using nothing but the book series, for making such a radical statement.

If there is one thing we know, from Harry's encounters with Dementors in the Prisoner of Azkaban, it is that Voldemort - cold, heartless, ruthless, _merciless_ Dark Lord Voldemort - gave Lily Potter, a woman who had defied him three times before now, a chance to live, so long as she stood aside and let him kill her son.

It might also be prudent to note that everything we _know_ about the night of Halloween, 1981, that hasn't been either told to us or witnessed through other eyes, can, in fact, be summed up in a grand total of 31 words, the majority of which consist of a mere two letters.

That's right, critics and fans. The only primary source we have of the night of Godric's Hallow is known from Harry Potter's encounters with dementors, and our poor hero continues to black out before we can really get to the juicy bits.

The reason I bring this up isn't to reiterate facts you already know, but rather, to emphasize one fact that many people don't seem to pay attention to, or if they do, they give it the bare minimum of consideration.

The fact that Lord Voldemort gave Lily Potter née Evans a chance to live in return for her son's death.

One of the biggest criticisms I have heard of the concept of Lily's Sacrifice is the ludicrous idea that _no other_ mother chose to die instead of their baby or child. I agree, the very idea is absurd. Under that particular line of reasoning, Lily's Sacrifice makes no sense.

But… how many other mothers were actually given the _option_ of stepping away and dooming their child, instead of simply resigning themselves to their fate?

That is the point that I believe Lily's Sacrifice ends up hinging upon. The fact that Lily had the very _real_ option of living if she left Harry to die, but she instead chose to die for her child anyway.

In this case, that makes what Lily did a _true_ sacrifice and created that protection born of love that Albus Dumbledore did so love mentioning.

Now, I suppose, this is my question: Does the Wizarding World now have Harry Potter's blood protection, after he sacrifices himself to Voldemort?

A question for another night, perhaps.


End file.
